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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28198611">either loving nobody or nothing (or loved enough)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/renvember/pseuds/renvember'>renvember</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>on my chest, on my heart [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Gen, LMAO we literally are after techno's stream, Piglin Technoblade, mostly fluffy though bc im a bitch for that, rip to yall twitter artists but team found family stays winning :sunglasses:, techno centric as always but a lot of wilbur too</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:09:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,994</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28198611</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/renvember/pseuds/renvember</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Yeah, fair enough. I’m Phil,” he waves and points a thumb back to Techno. “That’s Techno.”</p><p>Techno doesn’t wave. He stares down at the boy, quietly assessing.</p><p>“Wilbur,” he coughs out, meeting Techno’s gaze as he wipes his lips with his sleeve. “Charmed.”</p><p>“You can come with us. For now, at least,” Phil says, thumbing through the pages of a yellowed book on the counter. </p><p>Techno cringes and jumps to his side to throw himself between him and the boy. “Phil?! No!”</p><p>“Oh, he <em>talks</em>,” The boy observes flatly.</p><p>(Or, there's a new addition to their home, with somewhat unwilling compliance from both parties)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dave | Technoblade &amp; Wilbur Soot &amp; Phil Watson, Technoblade &amp; Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot &amp; Technoblade</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>on my chest, on my heart [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2051724</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>611</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>either loving nobody or nothing (or loved enough)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>HELLO how are we doing after all those streams theydies? thriving off the tommy &amp; techno content but that's uh. i was midway through this fic when All That happened so im posting this before we get into tommy cameos for this au</p><p>title from pogo’s living island. ik. it’s an oldie but just my vibe rn. also chronologically this is about a year after corner of your eye :&gt;</p><p>small content warnings!! some depictions of violence? mostly off screen &amp; also wilbur and techno fumbling over stitches, but it’s not super graphic. if that’s something that bothers you, skip to the next section! no major plot points :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The marketplace (Phil’s word for it) is <em> busy. </em>That’s the best word Techno can use to describe it.</p><p> </p><p>“Fruit,” Phil points out. He’s taken to naming everything they cross to help Techno’s comprehension. He still doesn’t like speaking, especially nowhere this crazy, so he doesn’t repeat it aloud. But he mulls over it in his head, mouthing each word to test the shape of it on his tongue. </p><p> </p><p>Techno tries not to stare too long at any one person, not wanting to attract any more attention than the passing glances he’s already getting. He doesn’t like the marketplace, he decides. Somehow he feels as if he’s both entirely invisible and the center of attention all at once. It’s much too hectic, with too many bustling people that make it hard to stay vigilant. <em>Getting</em> to these places is always a job in of itself. Phil doesn’t mind that he stays quiet during the process. There are fares to be paid, portals to go through; too much to follow, really. </p><p> </p><p>He keeps his head down and trails after Phil silently, trying the best he can to absorb his surroundings.</p><p> </p><p>He reaches over and picks up some of the bright berries that catch his eyes. He doesn't recognize them, but he's sure Phil would. They look sweet enough, he thinks he’d like to try them.</p><p> </p><p>Phil talks to the person manning the stall, rolling up his sleeves and crossing his arms as he speaks in quick words, negotiating something or other– he'd put Techno in his usual thin, gray poncho to give him something to hide behind in the open area. It obscures him completely, even the edges of it drag behind him when they go up steeper roads. Phil plucks a bag of vegetables from the stall. These, Techno recognizes. </p><p> </p><p>“Potatoes!” Phil explains, smiling, “Like the ones at home.”</p><p> </p><p>He nods. They’re slightly different in color but definitely the same. </p><p> </p><p>Phil keeps listing off vegetables in the background, but Techno gets distracted by the glint of light on metal a stall over. He steps away from Phil, only for a <em>second</em>, to investigate the wooden cart.</p><p> </p><p>On the back, there are open cases of intricate weaponry. Most of it seems to be more focused on aesthetic over function, all of them propped up in neat rows in their glass displays. </p><p> </p><p>One knife catches his eye, though.<br/>
</p><p>This case has been left open, easy for him to reach in and pluck it out of its stand. The short blade is lightweight and balanced, fitting well in his hand. He runs his hand over the cured-wooden hilt, feeling the carvings engraved into the stripped bark. </p><p> </p><p>“Techno!” Phil calls. “C’mon, we need to be back before noon.”</p><p> </p><p>Techno drops the knife into one of the pockets lining the interior of the poncho and runs back to Phil’s side.</p><p> </p><p>He’s mulling over his written list, frowning as he reads it over. “Hm. Still need to get more paper. Shouldn’t be far–”  </p><p> </p><p>That’s how he almost misses the shadow of the boy’s hand reaching into Phil’s pocket as he brushes past them. </p><p> </p><p>Almost.</p><p> </p><p>He’s marginally taller than Techno, but it doesn’t help much when Techno lunges at him, easily knocking him down and pinning him to the ground with his knife at his throat. </p><p> </p><p>Phil lets out a startled noise, jumping after Techno to jerk him back by the collar. Techno bats at the grip, trying his best to struggle out of his hold while not hurting Phil to no avail.  </p><p> </p><p>“Hey, hey, hey, Techno–” His eyes catch on the sharp blade. “Where did you even get this?!” he yanks the knife from Techno’s hand. “No, we don’t– we don’t attack people. Not in the market.”</p><p> </p><p><em> “He was going to hurt you!” </em> Techno snarls out the low note, his voice catching as he realizes Phil’s lack of understanding. He’s slipping (<em>regressing</em>, his mind supplies) back to Piglin words. He shakes his head, going slack in Phil’s grip until he lets him free. </p><p> </p><p>They look up and the kid is gone.</p><p> </p><p>Phil curses, dropping his hand to Techno’s shoulder and squeezing softly. “Sorry, sorry. I just… don’t want you killing anybody today.”</p><p> </p><p>Techno taps two fingers on Phil’s coin pouch. “Any gone?”</p><p> </p><p>Phil cracks a smile, unhooking the little clasp to investigate. “Nah, you protected me this time.”</p><p> </p><p>Techno finally looks up to take in the bustling of the market around them. They’ve been left an open circle as people give them a wide berth after <em>that</em> display apparently, but most seem too busy to pay them any mind, staring for only a moment before moving on. Techno ducks his head anyway. He feels much too exposed in the small clearing. </p><p> </p><p>Phil tugs him forward, but before they can even get anywhere, Techno slows to a stop, frowning and pulling his hoof back up with a smear of red on the ground. He curses silently, realizing the berries from earlier must have rolled out across the pavement. Phil looks down, picking up his own foot to investigate the soles of his shoe with similar results. </p><p> </p><p>He shrugs and pats Techno’s shoulder, “Damn, someone must have tripped or something. We’ll just have to rinse these off when we’re home,” He pulls out his list again. “Okay, paper, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“Mhm,” Techno hums, eyes searching the crowd of the kid. They’re long gone by now, obviously someone who knows the area well enough to effectively disappear in moments. It leaves a bad taste in his mouth.</p><p> </p><p>He swallows down the feeling of unease and follows after Phil.</p><p> </p><p>. . .</p><p> </p><p>Techno’s pushed back returning to the market for as long as he could but eventually, they always need to come back. Phil needs more wood-curing solution, to finish the addition to the house, on top of some fresh groceries and seeds for the summer season. </p><p> </p><p>Which is all well and good. Necessary, even. But Techno isn’t sure why they’re pretending to <em>not</em> to notice their new shadow. </p><p> </p><p>The boy from a month ago is back, it seems. He lurks behind every corner, keeping a healthy distance away but still not subtle enough to go unrecognized. </p><p> </p><p>Techno clutches the bottom of his poncho, keeping his eyes trained on him best he can while following Phil’s lead through the crowd. Unfortunately, that means he crashes right into his back as he halts to a hard stop in front of him.</p><p> </p><p>“Phil..?” Techno tugs on his sleeve, following his gaze to the mannequin propped up in front of a stall. </p><p> </p><p>“Wow,” Phil says, breathless, slowly stepping forward to ghost his hand over the… thing it’s wearing. Wings of some kind, he recognizes. “These are Elytra, right?”</p><p> </p><p>Techno quietly mouths the word ‘Elytra’ to himself, playing with the feel of the odd vowels.</p><p> </p><p>The shopkeeper nods, grinning. “Yup, just got a shipment here this morning. Straight from an End dimension. Practically new.”</p><p> </p><p>“How much?”</p><p> </p><p>They raise an incredulous brow, sizing up Phil. “Hm. Starting price of a hundred and fifty diamonds.”</p><p> </p><p>Phil pulls his hand back from the stand, whistling a low note. </p><p> </p><p>“Yep, not today,” he tries to look less disappointed than he is, but Techno sees it plainly. He’s disappointed. Really, truly disappointed. Phil wants those wings. </p><p> </p><p>But he moves on anyway, changing direction to look at the shopkeeper’s more general stock and asking for particulars about the produce. Techno lingers to hold his own hand over the dark webbing. They remind him of the membrane Phil stocks up for potions, hardy but somehow still lightweight. The clasps on the harness are a shining, white metal (enchanted iron, maybe?) that send a faint electric shock through his body as he runs his hands over them. </p><p> </p><p>He follows after Phil, to the other side of the open stall. Phil stays true to his tradition, naming everything he points out, quiet enough for Techno to mumble back as he hands him vegetables to bag. </p><p> </p><p>Techno glances up from their mindless process, eyes catching on the face peeking around the door. The kid from again, blinking dumbly and looking caught like prey in the bow’s crosshair. </p><p> </p><p>The shopkeeper lets out a furious sound as they run to the empty mannequin. They notice the kid in the doorway immediately, jumping forward to yank him up by the collar and <em>yell.</em></p><p> </p><p>Phil looks up too, narrowing his eyes once he recognizes the kid as well, already shouting as he strides across the room.</p><p> </p><p>Everything is too loud, suddenly. All Techno can do is cover his ear with his hands and watch Phil tear into the guy.</p><p> </p><p>He can hear speech wrung up with emotion as they argue loudly, but the words run together like water, much too hard to pick apart and understand. He quietly stalks up to them, lurking in the shadow of the displays to wait for a cue from Phil. They’re just getting louder, drawing in more onlookers and causing a scene. Techno ducks his head to stay as best out of sight as he can, but, ultimately, it’s not much. </p><p> </p><p>Phil jabs his finger against the shopkeeper’s chest, shouting curses. He rips the boy from their hands and reaches out for Techno. </p><p> </p><p>Great. Okay. Let’s move.</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t take them!” the kid yells, fighting Phil’s hold. “I don’t know what you’re on about!”</p><p> </p><p>Phil isn’t having it, yanking him down the street as Techno runs after them. “We just need to get <em>out of here</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t–” The kid starts again, but Phil cuts him off.</p><p> </p><p>“I know you don’t have them! Where could you be hiding–” He whips around to Techno. “Eyes up, they’ll be after us any second now. We need– <em> There</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>They come to a stop in front of the world nexus station. One of the points that connect this world to their own through some web Techno doesn’t even pretend to understand, though Phil’s all over it. He shoves them both through the doorway, but the kid digs his fingers across the side of the frame, pulling Phil back long enough to get a word in.</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t– I can’t fucking <em> afford</em> to leave. I’m–” Techno’s always been good at reading anger. It writhes in the boy’s face before he smooths over his features, morphing into steep resignation. He crosses his arms and dips his head to look steadily down on the ground. “I literally can’t. I can’t afford the fare.”</p><p> </p><p>Techno pokes his head around the corner. The shopkeeper has rounded up some guards, the whole party comes running down the street. He frowns, turning to Phil. “On their way.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Shit</em>. Okay, here,” he digs out a handful of gems to toss over to the man behind the counter. “Pass for all three of us, please.”</p><p> </p><p>“You got it,” He investigates the payment and hands Phil a wad of tickets. “Here you go.”</p><p> </p><p>He flashes a smile before yanking the back of both of their collars, shoving them through the closest portal.</p><p> </p><p>They come falling out the other side, into a hub of blackstone bricks. Techno blinks, feeling a hand over the familiar texture before Phil jerks him back up. </p><p> </p><p>“Sorry, mate,” he calls to the person manning the portals, waving them off. “Ignore us.”</p><p> </p><p>Techno barely has time to hold his breath before the three of them are plunged through the fabric of another portal.</p><p> </p><p>They come up somewhere totally different, not quite underwater, but humid enough to certainly <em> feel </em> that way. </p><p> </p><p>The boy shrugs off Phil’s grip on his collar, taking the sleeve of his coat to wipe off the shine of sweat over his forehead. “What are you–”</p><p> </p><p>“Making us hard to <em> track</em>,” Phil wraps a hand around his bicep. His gaze rounds across the lobby, but this one is seemingly empty. “C’mon, Techno.”</p><p> </p><p>He nods, not quite understanding, gripping the back of Phil's scarf to follow close behind.</p><p> </p><p>They pass between realities, slipping through the slick inbetween from portal to portal. Blurs of color between each, some atmospheres burning hot into his skin and others freezing cold. Nausea heaves in his guts but he keeps his jaw clamped shut for the entire journey, his hand on Phil tightening the further they slip between dimensions.</p><p> </p><p>After over a dozen transitions, Phil finally seems satisfied, slowing to a hard stop in a relatively temperate lobby. </p><p> </p><p>The boy crouches down, falling to the ground with only his hand to brace himself as he heaves out his insides. Which… there isn't much left of, it seems. </p><p> </p><p>Techno scrunches his nose up in distaste while Phil drops to his side. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey, I’m sorry,” he unscrews his water bottle and presses it into his hands. “How are you doing?”</p><p> </p><p>“Shit,” he spits out, grabbing the bottle and greedily drinking it down. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, fair enough. I’m Phil,” he waves and points a thumb back to Techno. “That’s Techno.”</p><p> </p><p>Techno doesn’t wave. He stares down at the boy, quietly assessing.</p><p> </p><p>“Wilbur,” he coughs out, meeting Techno’s gaze as he wipes his lips with his sleeve. “Charmed.”</p><p> </p><p>Phil rolls back on his heels and stands back up. “Let me find a map. We need to get home.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you leaving me here..?” The boy–whose name Techno immediately discards, because there’s no use remembering something that won’t last–pulls himself up.</p><p> </p><p>Techno hisses because, <em> no</em>, he’s not coming with them– </p><p> </p><p>“You can come with us. For now, at least,” Phil says, thumbing through the pages of a yellowed book on the counter. </p><p> </p><p>Techno cringes and jumps to his side to throw himself between him and the boy. “Phil?! No!”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, he <em> talks</em>,” The boy observes flatly.</p><p> </p><p>Techno growls at him, the sound startling even him, rising up from the deepest parts of himself. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey, hey, hey,” Phil sets a hand on his shoulder. “No fighting. Period. And you can just stay with us for a little bit. Until this blows over.” </p><p> </p><p>Techno lets out a frustrated noise while the boy makes his own disgusted face, and it’s something of a comfort to know the feeling is mutual. </p><p> </p><p>“What, can’t you just ditch me in some other city? I could not give less of a shit where,” The kid rolls up his sleeves to cross his arms.</p><p> </p><p>Phil looks a certain kind of disgusted, making Techno feel guilty for having even considered the thought. “Absolutely not. We can’t just <em> abandon </em> you.”</p><p> </p><p>Techno watches him open his mouth to argue before seeming to think better of it. “You’re gonna feed me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Three meals a day,” Phil promises easily. </p><p> </p><p>He nods. “I’ll take it.”</p><p> </p><p>Techno curses silently to himself.</p><p> </p><p>. . .</p><p> </p><p>With Phil’s guidance, it only takes a couple of portals to retrace their steps and route around to the right destination that leads them back to their homeworld.</p><p> </p><p>And home is exactly how they left it, somehow a shock after the last few hours. He tries not to linger on the new wooden support beams around the side, his <em> own</em> room almost finished, fighting down a smile while the boy’s taking in the environment.</p><p> </p><p>“Very green.”</p><p> </p><p>What is that, some kind of insult?</p><p> </p><p>Phil laughs. “Yep! Kinda some natural vibes. Stream down the way, but I have a working water pump so we don’t really need it. Got a gas stove, too, but we have to keep it well-stocked.”</p><p> </p><p>He nods, seemingly satisfied enough. Techno rolls his eyes and speeds up so he can be first through the door.</p><p> </p><p>Phil drops his hat and bags by the door, already rattling off the floorplan and gesturing appropriately. Techno bristles because he’s just telling all these things to<em> some random stranger. </em></p><p> </p><p>“Bathroom down the hall,” he points and the boy nods. “And up here is Techno’s room–”</p><p> </p><p>“Phil,” Techno claps his hands to get his attention as he rolls up the poncho and pulls it over his head. Finally free, he shakes out the set of wings he had picked up earlier. He thinks back on the word for it. “Elytra, for you.”</p><p> </p><p>For a single, long moment, they’re both silent, eyes growing large and mouths hanging open like gaping fish. The kid’s face splits into a wide smile and he keels over, laughing. Phil flips through emotions faster than Techno’s ever seen before.</p><p> </p><p>“Those are… they cost over a hundred diamonds, mate,” Phil says slowly.</p><p> </p><p>Techno narrows his eyes. “..Cost?”</p><p> </p><p>The kid falls prone on the ground with the force of their heaving chest.</p><p> </p><p>Phil’s incredulity bubbles over into astonishment as he tries to wrap his head around, what Techno <em> thought </em> was, an obvious concept. “Piglins– Piglins trade! Don't you know about those things?”</p><p> </p><p>Techno shakes his head. “No… no market. You keep things on you,” He picks up the bag again, tapping the straps across his shoulders. “No stalls. Leaving things out. Those are just– you are inviting… bad things.”</p><p> </p><p>“Like <em> stealing</em>?” The kid says, his face split into a wide grin. “Holy shit. I'm not– not even angry. Oh my <em> god–”</em></p><p> </p><p>Phil sputters. “Why did you think I was still giving them <em> diamonds </em> for things?!”</p><p> </p><p>“Good-will,” Techno tries weakly, voice wavering. “Gifts.”</p><p> </p><p>Phil opens his mouth, probably with a retort and an explanation on what Techno <em> apparently </em> got wrong, but they’re cut off by the boy, his laughter catching and hiccuping as he leans down to hold his face in his hands.</p><p> </p><p>He’s shaking now, though evidently not with the force of laughter anymore as he wipes away tears.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, hey,” Phil leans down. “We’ll keep you safe. Best we can.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not– they’ll all know me now. Recognize me. I can’t… do what I need to do. Even when you return the wings.”</p><p> </p><p>Techno frowns. He feels… almost bad for the kid but he doesn’t want him <em> here</em>, certainly.</p><p> </p><p>“Not returning the wings,” Phil decides. The kid looks up at him incredulously while Techno hums happily. Can’t have been too grave a misstep if they’re keeping them. “I mean… they were gonna hurt you for it. And. Well. I don’t know if we can go <em> back</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Ah. Okay, that’s less good.</p><p> </p><p>Phil notices his rising shame and pats his shoulder. “We’ll just have to go a bit further out for groceries. Not too big of a deal.” </p><p> </p><p>That does little to ease the twisting guilt in his stomach, so he drops to the couch next to the boy, as much distance between them as he can manage without sitting directly on top of the armrest. </p><p> </p><p>Phil lets out a faint huff of amusement when he walks back in, draping a knit blanket over the kid’s shoulder as the tears let up. Good, because Techno isn’t sure how much more emotion he can handle. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s getting late, I should probably get started on dinner,” He says. </p><p> </p><p>Techno nods but doesn’t get up. He doesn’t feel safe leaving the boy unsupervised for even a second. </p><p> </p><p>Phil takes that as it is, even though Techno’s sure they have a difference of opinion on this one. Maybe he’s given up on personal victories for the day. He picks up the Elytra again, holding up the harness to his chest to let the wings fall flat then folding them across his arm. He pats Techno’s shoulder again, bringing his head to his chest and pressing a soft kiss into his hair. “Thank you, really.”</p><p> </p><p>Techno freezes in his grip, muscles paralyzed from the sudden shot of adrenaline, and Phil realizes immediately, quickly pulling back. </p><p> </p><p>“Too far?”</p><p> </p><p>“..No,” Techno’s gaze flicks to the boy across the couch, who is notably looking in every direction <em> but </em>them for the moment. “Your welcome.”</p><p> </p><p>Phil smiles. “You’re welcome. More accent on the ‘R.’”</p><p> </p><p>He leaves the Elytra hanging by the door. </p><p> </p><p>. . .</p><p> </p><p>Techno isn’t sure of the boy. He doesn’t like the new addition to their space, how Techno has someone new to skirt around. He had finally relaxed enough to let his guard down, but this kid has him on edge like it’s that first week in the overworld all over again.</p><p> </p><p>Techno can tell Phil is elated, though. One would think having another mouth to feed and clean up after would only be trouble, but Phil has only gotten brighter each day he wakes up and the boy is still here. Techno doesn’t like the boy, and he certainly doesn’t trust him (he tried to steal from Phil, for god’s sake), but he can suffer this. For Phil, there’s no hardship too great. </p><p> </p><p>No hardship is too great.</p><p> </p><p>So Techno hasn't been sleeping. There's just no time for it. He can't let the boy go unsupervised for too long, especially not in their <em> home</em>. The past two days have been relatively uneventful. Phil’s been busy with finishing the exterior wood walls, giving both Techno and the boy plenty of free time to stare awkwardly at each other in the long gaps between coats of wood finish.</p><p> </p><p>That's the other thing about this little corner of hell; Techno knows he’s not the only one suffering.</p><p> </p><p>The boy hasn’t been sleeping much either. Techno sits in his doorframe late into the night, just watching him on the couch, the pattern of his breathing falling into irregular unease instead of the steady rhythm of sleep, obviously awake until the morning light crests through the window. </p><p> </p><p>They both meet each other every morning, the dark bruises of exhaustion under their eyes darkening the further along their little dance goes.</p><p> </p><p>Techno guesses he can't sleep because of the discomfort of a new environment, second possibly to the constant watching. But it pays off the next night, when the boy carefully tiptoes off the couch.</p><p> </p><p>Great. Wonderful. Techno unfolds himself from the crook in the doorway, noiselessly pressing a hoof forward on the quietest floorboards. The wood is silent beneath him, not so much as a creak. Perfect. He balances carefully, dipping around the corner the boy disappeared behind.</p><p> </p><p>He's rifling through the kitchen it seems, unearthing and turning out every scrap of food he can get his hands on. Techno frowns, slinking forward to get a closer look.</p><p> </p><p>He roots around until his gaze lands on the half-loaf of bread with a hardened crust. He snatches it, ripping off a thin piece and taking a bite. Then he repeats the motion with everything he’s unearthed; he takes only a handful of berries, a single carrot from the bushel, a slice from the cheese, taking everything he can in small quantities before returning it. It baffles Techno, honestly, until he realizes the boy’s intention. He doesn’t want them to know that he’s taking food. </p><p> </p><p>It’s been a long time since Techno’s thought like that (too long, the beast of his mind whispers, if he’d momentarily forgotten). He recognizes the exhausted desperation behind it, he’s been there before.</p><p> </p><p>But Phil is kind, if the boy asked, he would be fed, even this late in the night. </p><p> </p><p>Techno doesn’t know if he will realize that. </p><p> </p><p>Either way, all Techno can do is sit in the darkness watching, as he methodically makes his way through the kitchen before returning to the couch, still yet shrugging off sleep.</p><p> </p><p>. . .</p><p> </p><p>This area’s been almost cleaned of its resources, so Techno imagines they'll start a new mine a few miles further out soon. </p><p> </p><p>The boy looks terrified once they push past the curtain of vines and descend into the cave. He moves with his back to the wall, flinching and yelping at the tiniest of noises. </p><p> </p><p>Techno leans over, smiling. “Scared?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not– <em> Fuck you,</em> I'm not fucking <em> scared</em>. Can a scared person do this?” He lunges forward with his stone blade, tripping over a dip in the stairs and almost falling completely if not for Phil catching him. Shame.</p><p> </p><p>“Scared,” Techno repeats smugly. “Itty boy.”</p><p> </p><p>“What the fuck do you mean, <em> itty boy</em> ? Are you trying to–” He stops, then smiles, grinning like he's won. “Do you not know the word <em> city</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“City boy,” Techno corrects hurriedly. “Scared little city boy–”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s too late!” His face is split into a manic grin and he purses his lips together to do some shit impression. “Am I your itty boy?”</p><p> </p><p>Techno bristles. “Next time, Phil let you fall.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Should</em> let me,” The boy corrects. “C’mon, take notes. We need to sharpen those speaking skills.”</p><p> </p><p>Techno rolls his eyes and stops talking entirely. He won’t fall for this trap. The boy gets too bored to keep nagging Techno, thankfully lapsing into silence as well.</p><p> </p><p>Phil lets out a low chuckle, knocking his fist against an opening in the wall. “Here looks good,” He nods to them. “Back up.”</p><p> </p><p>Techno’s already taken a step back, but it’s a delight to watch the other boy scramble backward as Phil swings his pickaxe through the makeshift stone barricade barring this section of cave from the strip-mine. The torchlight only goes so far into the darkness, though.</p><p> </p><p>“We’re going in there..?” The boy tightens his grip on his sword.</p><p> </p><p>Phil nods. “Stay close. Could be monsters in there too.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Probably </em> monsters,” Techno confirms. </p><p> </p><p>The boy tenses. “Right. Okay. After you, then.”</p><p> </p><p>Techno flashes a smile, following right behind Phil as they move forward.</p><p> </p><p>The mines are quiet today, they’re able to stop for iron deposits without having to worry too much. Phil makes quick work of any regardless, passing the ore off to Techno or the boy to hold while moving forward. But that doesn’t seem to stop the boy from jumping at the smallest noises. </p><p> </p><p>“That’s a bat,” Techno says helpfully as he recoils backward at the far-off silhouette.</p><p> </p><p>“I know what a bat is, <em> thank you</em>,” he says, dusting himself off to speed up and catch up. </p><p> </p><p>Techno shrugs. “City boy.”</p><p> </p><p>The boy mouths ‘itty boy’ to himself, scoffing at his own mocking tone. “Yeah, of course.”</p><p> </p><p>Maybe chalk it up to general tiredness or how easily the boy distracts him, either way, Techno doesn’t register the presence of monsters until they’re just upon them, with not nearly enough time to react. </p><p> </p><p>Techno recognizes the distinct moan before any motion, looking up just in time to see zombies lumber out of the darkness. At the very least, he can funnel his tension into something concrete. </p><p> </p><p>The boy… can't fight, Techno realizes. Or, well, he can, but it's not great. He imagines exhaustion isn’t helping.</p><p> </p><p>He falters behind them, but it hardly matters when Techno lunges forward to bury his sword between the undead’s ribs. In two clean blows, it’s down, and he can focus on the spider behind it. Phil’s already done with the other zombie, falling back to the boy’s side. </p><p> </p><p>Techno looks back just in time to see Phil shoving him out of the way, just in time to watch his head slam against the rock floor with a haunting <em> crack</em>. </p><p> </p><p>There's a breath between that moment and the next, where Techno is now poised over the broken exoskeleton and dislodging his sword, but the specifics are lost on him.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Shit,</em>” Phil curses, propping himself on the cave wall. “Losing a lot of blood. Just– Fuck. Get me back home. Healing and regen’ potions up there.”</p><p> </p><p>“How do we know which ones?!” </p><p> </p><p>Phil blinks open one eye and meets Techno’s gaze. He nods once. “Techno knows. Just follow his lead. Here, get a clean cloth. I need to put pressure on this.”</p><p> </p><p>The boy falters but Techno is already unraveling the gauze he has buried in his pack, just for these emergencies. Phil stays conscious for as long as he’s able, his breath slowing and eyelids fluttering the longer he forces them awake. They only have so long though and too quickly are Techno and the boy left alone.</p><p> </p><p>After less than a moment, he speaks up. “I’ll carry him, I’m the tall one.”</p><p> </p><p>He’s only <em> marginally </em>taller than Techno, only a few infuriating inches apart. He isn’t sure why he’s getting wrapped up in such a pointless detail, as if it isn’t obvious Techno needs his hands free to clear them out of this mess. </p><p> </p><p>“Fine,” Techno says. He unlatches Phil’s axe from his belt because two weapons will give him <em> some </em> sort of edge, he imagines. Especially if the boy can’t fend for himself. “If you even <em> think </em> of leaving Phil for dead–”</p><p> </p><p>The kid makes a genuinely disgusted face at that. “If you can't believe I care at least the <em> minimum </em> amount for him, at least remember he's my food guarantee.”</p><p> </p><p>That’s enough.</p><p> </p><p>“Keep your hand on the blood spot,” Techno reminds him, peeking his head around the corner to check their route back. “Pressure.”</p><p> </p><p>He scoffs but obliges. “Bloody spot. Wound, they call it, actually.”</p><p> </p><p>Techno ignores him to blink away the exhaustion threatening to overtake him. Later. He can sleep later, when Phil’s conscious and can watch the boy. He bites down on the inside of his lip, the rush of blood sending him a brief burst of clarity. There. He can focus on the torchlight at the end of the cavern, duck around that corner and they should be good.</p><p> </p><p>“Stay close,” he mutters, eyeing the monsters in their path. </p><p> </p><p>The boy nods and tightens his grip around Phil.</p><p> </p><p>Techno moves first, drawing the monster’s attention and gesturing for the boy to move while he can. Then it’s time to clear through the mob of hostility almost upon him. Sword in one hand and axe in the other, he lunges forward, the green blood of spiders and the zombie’s putrid goop spilling across the cavern floor. </p><p> </p><p>Without a moment of hesitation, he springs back to Wilbur again, taking his axe and levying it through the zombie creeping up, clearing the path directly forward, but the boy’s caught in the moment, frozen as he stares down at the bloody mess on the floor. Techno slams his hoof down with a <em> crunch </em> to make sure the crystal goes down with it, since <em> somebody </em> seems to care that much, but that doesn’t seem to help either. </p><p> </p><p>“<em> Hey</em> ,” Techno hisses to no avail. “Hey! <em> Will</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>The boy snaps up. “What did you call me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Will. Will-boar,” he repeats. “We have to <em> move</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>That’s enough to snap him out of it, letting Techno pull him through the doorway easily enough. Techno slams a wooden plank behind them, temporarily barring the monsters inside. Won’t hold for long though. He takes Phil’s other shoulder and props him up, keeping pace with Wilbur to scale the stairs upward. </p><p> </p><p>He practically shoves them through the gap leading outside too, neglecting the usual precautions to get them<em> through</em>. The house isn’t too far now, but the sun is setting. They’re going to run out of time if they don’t hurry.</p><p> </p><p>He urges Wilbur forward, galloping forward at his uneven pace to compensate for the imbalance of heights. It’s good Phil isn’t conscious right now, because Techno imagines this will leave him sore and aching for days to come. </p><p> </p><p>He kicks open the door to the house, wiping his hands on the first towel he spots as Wilbur deposits Phil on the couch. He grabs a cleaner one, cushioning it under Phil’s head and clearing the blood from the injury. Now that he sees it, he can breathe easier. It’s not too big, should be an easy fix. </p><p> </p><p>Wilbur sits at Phil’s side while Techno roots through the potion cabinet. He unearths the store of healing potions first then pulls open the smaller drawer of regeneration. He’ll have to conserve those, the materials are hard to gather. Because Phil <em> will </em> survive, and they <em> will </em> have the time to replenish their store. </p><p> </p><p>He comes back with an armful of materials, first passing the healing potion to Wilbur to get it in Phil’s system while he unravels fresh gauze. The healing potion worked like a charm, evidently, as a fresh wave of blood poured down the side of Phil’s head. Techno curses and starts wrapping the gauze tighter. </p><p> </p><p>He lets out a frustrated noise, then finally admits aloud, “Gauze won't work. Won't stick.”</p><p> </p><p>Wilbur frowns, regarding the wound. “Do we need stitches?”</p><p> </p><p>“Stitches..?” </p><p> </p><p>“Where you– hold on,” he pulls his sleeve inside out, exposing the thread. “Sew. Sew the skin back together.”</p><p> </p><p>Techno frowns, glancing down at his own hands. He can hold a sword well enough, but his fingers are definitely too clunky to pull off that delicate work. </p><p> </p><p>Wilbur follows his gaze. “I’ll do it,” he says suddenly. “Just get me the stuff. You have a first-aid kit, right?”</p><p> </p><p>Techno nods, yanking it off the wall without a moment’s hesitation. Wilbur flinches at the noise but helps him rifle through the contents until they find something suitable.</p><p> </p><p>“I need you to like… hold the cloth there. Control the blood. But. Don't talk, okay? I do bad under pressure.”</p><p> </p><p>Techno nods curtly, pressing the gauze in place while Wilbur unravels and strings the thread. His eyes catch on the calluses on Wilbur’s fingers, oddly placed on the tip of his thumb and the creases under his knuckles. Nothing gained from holding weapons, though that isn't a surprise. He imagined that Wilbur might have been better with a bow, but there's no way that's the case with those markings.</p><p> </p><p>He fumbles, almost dropping the needle. “Fuck. Okay. This is worse. I'm talking now.”</p><p> </p><p>“Great,” Techno says without inflection.</p><p> </p><p>Wilbur drops the needle. “<em> Fuck.</em> You stay quiet. I'll talk.”</p><p> </p><p>Techno nods again, trying not to reflect the rising panic he has the longer Wilbur <em> does not sew</em>. He doesn’t make any move to start again either, his hands stuck fumbling with the thread. Fine then, if Techno has to force it, he will. </p><p> </p><p>“Where did the, uh,” Techno clears his throat and taps the fingers of his own hand. “Come from?”</p><p> </p><p>“The precision?” Close enough. “I played. Used to,” Wilbur says as a way of some explanation.</p><p> </p><p>“Played what?”</p><p> </p><p>“Piano. Guitar,” He glances over at Techno’s confused face then gets to work. “Musical instruments. They're very delicate.”</p><p> </p><p>That explains the calluses to some degree, even if he… doesn't understand what the fuck Wilbur’s on about. Talking does seem to be helping him though, so Techno nods.</p><p> </p><p>That gets him started on music, something else entirely alien that Techno pretends to comprehend to keep Wilbur grounded during the process. He gets lost quickly, but Wilbur’s able to do what he needs to, his hands unwavering until he’s entirely finished.</p><p> </p><p>When Wilbur finally cuts the string at the end of the wound, Techno carefully takes a cloth and dabs up the blood that oozed in during the meantime. He takes Phil’s pulse again. It’s weak but <em> present</em>, which is enough. He drops to the ground beside the couch, leaning his head against the cushion. Wilbur comes back to the living room after dumping the excess and bloodied rags in the kitchen, dropping right beside him to lay across the rug. </p><p> </p><p>“Wake me when he wakes up,” He mumbles into the ground.</p><p> </p><p>“Mmm,” Techno agrees intelligently, all too keen to just finally pass out. He’ll be up in a bit, just to check on Phil and to make sure Wilbur hasn’t made off with their things.</p><p> </p><p>. . .</p><p> </p><p>Techno wakes up with a comforting, warm weight on his side. He grumbles and leans into it, glad that Phil’s okay but not yet awake enough to think through voicing the sentiment yet. Then he clues in on the bustling of the kitchen, the noise the most likely culprit that he’s even awake at all. </p><p> </p><p>He shoots up immediately, bracing himself on the cushion of the sofa behind him. He didn’t wake up with Phil apparently, but it thankfully seems that Wilbur didn’t either. Techno blinks down, because apparently, he’s out cold on the ground, rolling over now that Techno isn’t down beside him. He recoils and shakes out his hands as if it’ll help brush off the lingering sensation of the warmth.</p><p> </p><p>Phil looks back over the counter. “Hey, you’re up! It looks like it's about noon? I just got started on breakfast. Or lunch. Brunch, maybe? I–”</p><p> </p><p>Techno cuts him off with the force of impact, wrapping his hands around Phil’s middle and burying his face in Phil’s shirt. </p><p> </p><p>Phil wordlessly turns down the stove and abandons the food to lean down, tugging Techno up. “This okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“Mhm,” Techno mumbles, letting Phil sweep him up into a hug. He doesn’t say anything else so he can rest his head on Phil’s chest and listen to the thumping of his heartbeat.</p><p> </p><p>“Did I look that bad?” He asks quietly.</p><p> </p><p>“Wasn’t…” Techno can’t articulate the feeling, frowning. “Wasn’t good for a while.”</p><p> </p><p>Phil doesn’t say anything, opting to brush Techno’s hair back and hum softly. They linger in the quiet hum of the kitchen, only the sound of the gas stove and breathing accompanying them in the silence. After a long moment, Techno forces himself to pull back, right on time to catch Wilbur finally blinking awake. </p><p> </p><p>He drops from Phil’s arms, dragging a stool around the counter to sit by the stove as he works. </p><p> </p><p>Wilbur wanders in moments later, likely drawn in by the noise. “G’morning,”  he covers a wide yawn with his hand. “How are you feeling?”</p><p> </p><p>“Barely even feel it,” Phil says, flipping an egg in the pan.</p><p> </p><p>Wilbur scoffs. “No use lying, I've had stitches before. Where's the freezer? I'll dig up a cold pack.”</p><p> </p><p>Phil tilts his head curiously at him. “We, uh, don't have electricity, mate. No fridge.”</p><p> </p><p>Wilbur stutters. “How do you– how do you keep food?”</p><p> </p><p>Phil shrugs. “Not buying too much at a time and dry ingredients.”</p><p> </p><p>Techno shuffles over. “You’ve been going through our stuff. ‘Had to have known we didn’t.”</p><p> </p><p>“I thought it was…” Wilbur flounders, fruitlessly brushing his hair back with the long sleeve of his coat as it flops immediately back into place. “Outside! I don’t know–”</p><p> </p><p>“City boy,” He says again.</p><p> </p><p>Wilbur bristles and Phil turns away laughing, but stops mid-motion as his gaze catches on something through the window. “Is that..?”</p><p> </p><p>Techno has to lean forward to reach the bottom of the glass from this close. It takes a moment, but he sees it too. A creeper, wandering just outside the fence.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Shit</em>. It's not even that dark yet, sun hasn't set,” Phil pulls the curtain closed. “Did you leave the mine entrance open?”</p><p> </p><p>Techno thinks back on that, rising dread sinking its claws around his gut. </p><p> </p><p>“...Don’t think we did,” he finally mumbles. </p><p> </p><p>Phil curses. Both of him and Wilbur recoil back, and he has to wave them off. “Not mad at you. Just– the stupid fucking monsters. <em> Fuck</em>. Techno, are you awake enough to take them?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” he says immediately, because he always is. </p><p> </p><p>“Wilbur, stay close to the house,” He nods to him, picking up the stone sword and tossing it over. “Final line of defense.”</p><p> </p><p>Wilbur nods. </p><p> </p><p>Techno plays with the grip of his sword in his hands. He wipes the blade against his pant leg, it was dirty <em> before </em> their trip in the mine, but it’s gotten indistinguishable by now. </p><p> </p><p>Wilbur’s eyes catch on the dark shine when the gore is reduced to smudge on fabric. “That’s not... How do you have a Netherite sword and no <em> fridge</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“One of those comes with monthly bills!” Phil says, dropping plates in the sink. “We’ll come back to this later. Techno,” He nods to the door. “We need to push to the mine entrance. Seal it up again. We’ll be there and right back, okay Wilbur?”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay. Yeah, okay, I’ll be fine,” He leans against the wall, staring up at Phil. “Totally fine. Do what you need to do.”</p><p> </p><p>Techno doesn’t like the sound of that, but he can’t argue now. There are more important things at stake than Wilbur’s supervision. Without a goodbye, they race out the door and sprint for the mine. Phil moves in longer strides but Techno can compensate to make up the difference, concentrating on balance and speed. </p><p> </p><p>Another group of mobs comes pouring out of the doorway when they reach it. The entrance was subtle before, underneath the vines and between two boulders. Now it couldn’t be more obvious. Creatures are coming out in droves, too many and too spread out to consolidate his strikes.</p><p> </p><p>This is bad. This is very bad. </p><p> </p><p>“We have to close up the mine entirely,” Phil decides. “It’s too risky to try to preserve it.”</p><p> </p><p>Techno blinks up at him. “Sure?”</p><p> </p><p>“We can always start another one. This is basically just a breeding ground for monsters at this rate,” He groans under his breath, cursing. </p><p> </p><p>Techno surveys their surroundings once more for anything that can help. He points up with his sword. “Tree’s uneven. Could hit it and drop it over the door.”</p><p> </p><p>Phil follows his gaze, nodding as he lands on the tree. “I’ll lure a creeper over. Might give us a good enough push.”</p><p> </p><p>Techno’s skin crawls at the notion, but he pushes past it. He nods shortly. “What do you want me to do?”</p><p> </p><p>“Stay back,” Phil says, smiling. He unstraps his quiver and presses the bow into Techno’s hands. “Keep me safe, I’m gonna try something stupid.”</p><p> </p><p>Techno frowns, opening his mouth to object, but Phil is already striding forward, swinging his axe by his side to draw the monster’s attention. He pulls in a creeper and a few zombies, but more annoyingly, a few skeletons. Techno scoffs and pulls back an arrow on his bow, aiming low so the skeleton misfires on its ally.</p><p> </p><p>It’s enough of a distraction to give Phil the space he needs to lure the monsters up the cliff-face, unfortunately garnering much and more attention the further he gets. Techno can only pick off enough individuals before they’re overwhelmed. Phil seems to understand that, lunging low to unbalance the closest creeper. It hisses in frustration, and Techno recognizes the building tension of an explosion on their hands. Instead of ducking and running, Phil waits it out until the last second and Techno is helpless but to watch. </p><p> </p><p>He hops back on one foot, rolling back his poncho to give way to <em> wings</em>. The blast knocks him back but pushes him upward. Riding the burst of air, he swoops away from the chain of explosions as the other creepers go off in sync, gliding back to him. </p><p> </p><p>But he dips downward too quickly, flailing in the air before crashing in the dirt. </p><p> </p><p>“Almost cool,” Techno says, and kneels down to Phil’s level.</p><p> </p><p>Phil rolls over, brushing the dirt out of the Elytra webbing before even considering himself. He’s grinning wildly through it all. “I’ll take it. We’ll get there.”</p><p> </p><p>Techno smiles and pulls Phil to his feet, passing back the bow and arrows.</p><p> </p><p>But the dust settles too quickly. Already, monsters are gathering in the shadow of the landslide. Monsters peel out from the darkness, focusing on the source of the noise and, more alarmingly, the light of the house in the distance.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Fuck</em>, Wilbur,” Phil hooks the bow around his shoulder and shakes out his poncho to cover it. “We need to go, <em> now</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Techno nods, already readying his sword to clear a path through the woods. </p><p> </p><p>. . .</p><p> </p><p>They move quickly in their mad dash back to the house, thoroughly disposing of any monster in sight. Past the fence lines, a hoard of zombies has shambled through, Wilbur standing as the only defense between them and home.</p><p> </p><p>His thoughts come to a hard stop as he recognizes the hard <em> clack </em>of bone against a hard surface as a zombie lunges forward and Wilbur is thrown to the side. </p><p> </p><p><em> Wilbur</em> . Phil can handle this easily enough. Techno leaves his sword in the corpse (a second faster this way, he decides in the moment), whirling around to pounce, <em> snarling</em> at the zombies going for Will. </p><p> </p><p>(Distantly, he thinks it’s lucky the sickness of decay wears on the bones under the bags of flesh, or else this would've been much harder.)</p><p> </p><p>He sinks his nails–sharp as claws now–into the one over him, rolling away and bashing its head in with the bottom of his tusk. He makes a brief second pass to break its magical core with the crux of his elbow. The moment he's sure it's down for good, he snaps up and lunges forward for the next one. It gives Wilbur the leverage he needs to get out of the way, jumping back with his sword and leaving plenty of space for Techno to dispose of the rest of the monsters.</p><p> </p><p>“Holy shit,” Wilbur says softly. </p><p> </p><p>Techno pulls himself off the last zombie, brushing the worst of the blood off his face with his coat sleeve. Then he frowns as he looks down at his bloody hands. He imagines his face isn't much better. He'll definitely need to wash up before picking up anything else.</p><p> </p><p>Phil looks him down, eyes catching on the gory mess all over his everything. “Ah, Techno…”</p><p> </p><p>“Not mine,” Techno confirms. “I’m fine.”</p><p> </p><p>Phil smiles, the tension in his shoulders easing.</p><p> </p><p>“Holy <em> shit</em>,” Wilbur repeats.</p><p> </p><p>Phil laughs. “Yeah, god. He had half his skin burned off and he was still putting down monsters. Didn’t he fight like that in the mine?”</p><p> </p><p>“I mean, yeah. but that was to protect <em> you– </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Wil-boar’s bleeding,” Techno interrupts before this can get too far.</p><p> </p><p>“Wilbur’s <em> what–</em>”</p><p> </p><p>Wilbur jumps back and shoots Techno a dirty look before turning back to Phil. “I’m fine! A-Okay! Nothing to see here!”</p><p> </p><p>“Your shoulder’s bleeding! Here, let me–”</p><p> </p><p>Wilbur rolls his eyes but acquiesces, rolling up his sleeve and shrugging off the shoulder of his jacket to hold out his arm. </p><p> </p><p>Phil clicks his tongue unhappily, already manifesting cloth and his flask to cleanse the wound. He nudges Techno. “Go get some fresh bandages, too.”</p><p> </p><p>Techno nods, dipping back inside for only a moment before resurfacing back out. The house is… entirely unchanged. Wilbur hadn’t done a thing. On his way to the bathroom for clean bandages, he sticks his head into his bedroom. It’s as clean and empty as ever, the clear bedding lying flat and unused after a week of neglect. Phil’s room looks about the same as well, though it’s always too cluttered to see much of a difference. </p><p> </p><p>(Techno thinks again about painstakingly cutting the thinnest slice of bread, of swiping less than a handful of berries from the top of the barrel, or taking what will go entirely unnoticed in the grand scheme of things.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t think he can trust Wilbur yet, but he thinks maybe it can be earned.) </p><p> </p><p>He drops the roll of bandages in Phil’s lap, circling to the other side of the porch to watch the trees. There are monsters further back, but nothing has strayed close enough to the house to be worrisome for the moment. But there’s enough that he imagines it’s a justified enough excuse to bolt if things get too emotional here.</p><p> </p><p>Phil tears off what he needs from the roll, making a thin cut through the cloth with his paring knife. “Should be good. Don’t think we can have you fighting any longer, though.”</p><p> </p><p>Wilbur looks so relieved that Techno has to turn away again to stomach the full force of the vulnerability in his gaze. “Will you stay by the house then?”</p><p> </p><p>Techno can hear the rustle of movement as Phil pockets his knife and the bandages, “For now, I think. We closed the mine entrance. We’re not going to be getting anything more than natural spawns after this.”</p><p> </p><p>Wilbur lets out another heavy sigh of relief.</p><p> </p><p>“Sleep now,” Techno says. He points to Phil’s head injury and Wilbur’s shoulder. “No making it worse.”</p><p> </p><p>Phil frowns. “I’m not gonna have you out here <em> alone</em>, Techno.”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Techno insists, pulling Phil up and towards the doorway. “Rest.”</p><p> </p><p>Wilbur eyes him oddly. “What about you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Can handle it, Will-boar,” He knocks his fist against his chest and holds out his sword to catch the moonlight. </p><p> </p><p>“Wilbur,” He corrects. “More of a ‘buh’ sound at the end.”</p><p> </p><p>Techno narrows his eyes in concentration as he sounds it out. “Will-bour. Sleep.”</p><p> </p><p>Wil shrugs and rolls his eyes, but he's smiling. “Close enough, I guess.”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>phil: a son!<br/>techno: an enemy</p><p>and with that we have our og sbi together!! special shoutout to evie again for bearing with me for this ride. im so sorry king ty for sticking with me. second shoutout to the wonderful miss kitty (actual cat) who added meaningful comments to the doc and also deleted a line and made the vc loudly panic</p><p>if you enjoyed PLEASE kudos and comment!! i have mental illness and this fic was an uphill battle so if you wanna send me straight serotonin.. ;*</p></blockquote></div></div>
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